The Stranger in the Street
by lime215
Summary: John's really tired of the journalists following him, especially that one journalist who turns out not to be a journalist.


**Title: **the stranger in the street  
**Author: **lime215  
**Rating: **R (for language, violence and implied sexual content)  
**Characters: **john watson, sherlock holmes  
**Pairings: **john watson/sherlock holmes  
**Categories/Genres: **angst, romance, h/c

**Word Count: **2100

**Warning(s): **implied sex under the influence of drugs, post reichenbach fall, reunion

**Author's Note: ** There may be a second chapter if it is requested. What do y'all think? Shall I leave it as is? A sequel? Let me know.

**Summary: **John's really tired of the journalists following him, especially that one journalist who turns out not to be a journalist.

"Damned machine," John Watson mumbled to himself as he walked out of the grocery store and into the busy streets of London. Navigating the crowded pavement, he shifted his weight often as his leg ached. "Damn it!" John cursed to himself. _Why now? I have ten blocks left to walk to that frickin' flat._

A man bumped into him, their shoulders banging together, and added an unsympathetic 'sorry' as he knelt down to tie his shoe laces. _Surely, that'll leave a bruise._ Something about the man struck a chord in John's brain. Something about his posture kept nagging at the doctor and it frustrated him. _Perhaps I've seen him at the Yard_, he pondered.

However, he continued pushing through crowds of conceited business men talking into Blackberries and iPhones. Every few minutes, one would kick at his heel obliviously. He still couldn't keep his mind off the man with the sharp shoulder blade. When one of the said corporate executives slammed into John's back, knocking him over without a single word, that's when the doctor caught it. As John stood up, grabbing his keys and phone from the ground, he noticed the familiar man still walking behind him. _Oh, great. I bet he's one of those god damned journalists. Still stalking me after what happened. Couldn't they just let it go? Even a year after Sherlock's fall, they still won't leave me be. _John huffed. John stood up and continued walking, very aware of his tail.

After a block of walking, he quickly turned into a quiet alley. Through the corner of his eye, John saw the man follow him and look back towards the main road before returning towards John. John immediately shoved his forearm against the man pushing him up the wall, the stalker's face smashed against the brick.

"What do you want? Stop following me, you asshole! It's been a frickin' year. Go follow some other story in London!"

The other man coughed weakly, the brick imprinting a rectangle into the side of his long neck.

"You think I'm a journalist?" he asked quietly.

John slowly let the other man fix himself so his back was pressed against the wall, John's arm pressing into the man's chest.

"Hello, John."

John immediately jumped back. John's eye twitched for a moment and he wiped a hand over his face. A choking sound escaped his lips.

"No. You're dead." John took a long look at the man. The same face. The same cheekbones. Short blonde hair. A small goatee. A dark slim fitting casual suit. "No."

"John. It's me." Sherlock smoothed his suit and shot a weak smile towards John.

"No. You're dead. You were dead. You don't get to smile at me!" John yelled, pushing Sherlock back against the wall. In a flurry of anger and confusion, John clenched his fist and struck a blow to Sherlock's jaw.

Sherlock spat out some blood and rubbed the bright red area on his cheek and jaw.

"John. Look, I'm sor-" Sherlock started, before John cut him off.

John laughed to himself. He huffed, "No. You don't get to apologize, okay? I grieved for you. I cried before your grave. I saw five frickin' psychiatrists! So, no. You don't get to apologize like this, Sherlock." John said Sherlock's name with such distaste, Sherlock had to look at the ground, refusing to look at the expression on John's face.

"Okay. But, look. You asked for a miracle. I'm not dead."

John slowly nodded his head, and then jerked up.

"Wait. How'd you know that? No. You were there? Sherlock, I can't right now-" John tried to express the emotions clouding his thoughts.

"Okay." Sherlock said quietly, still leaning against the wall.

John sighed, letting out a heap of air. "Oh my God. I'm so glad you're back." John immediately wrapped his arms around Sherlock's torso. After a few moments, John stepped back, his emotions confusing him.

"It's killed me not being able to be sure you were safety." Sherlock blinked several times.

John slowly nodded. "I don't think I can yet." John clenched his jaw tightly.

"What? You can't what?"

"I can't do this Sherlock. Not yet. I think I need some time. I'm glad you're back, but it's been so long, I'm not sure how to cope." John confessed flatly.

Sherlock swallowed sharply, and his Adam's apple bounced in his throat. "Okay. What does that mean exactly?" Disappointment was apparent in Sherlock's expression.

"I'm not sure." John exhaled loudly. "I think you can come back. You can come back to the flat." He paused, his brain trying to wrap around the situation at hand. "Wait, you couldn't see me. Why?"

Sherlock closed his eyes to take a deep breath, before starting. "Moriarty threatened to kill the ones I cared about. He died, but there were people watching you and Molly and everyone. I couldn't come back until I knew it was safe."

"Is it safe now?" John inquired.

"Of course. I wouldn't have followed you if it wasn't." Sherlock stiffened, remembering the confrontations with the assassins he killed.

John nodded slowly, taking in the information. A proverbial light bulb went off in his mind. "Wait, what did you do?" John's jaw clenched automatically, a military reaction when something was wrong.

"What do you mean?" Sherlock's brow furrowed in feigned confusion, but John knew that Sherlock knew _exactly _what he was talking about.

"Don't give me that crap. You know what I mean." John spat out. "Don't lie to me you bastard."

"Okay. Calm down." Sherlock inhaled slowly before continuing. "I did what was necessary, John." He conceded.

"Which was?" John began grinding his teeth. Deep in his mind, he knew very well what Sherlock had done, but refused to accept it.

"Come on, John. You know what I did. I eliminated the threat. It was the only way."

"Damn it, Sherlock." John sighed. "You shouldn't have-" John shook his head disapprovingly.

"I had to." Sherlock shouted, the words vibrating off the brick in the alley. "I couldn't just live knowing that there was an assassin watching you, ready to kill! I just had to see you again. I just couldn't-" Sherlock closed his eyes, taken aback at his incidental confession.

John stared at the ground, letting Sherlock's words seep in.

"John?" Sherlock's face showed complete desperation. "John, please. Say something."

John laughed to himself. "Yeah, right. _I _need to say something. Where were you when I needed _you_ to say something all those months?" He spat out, pushing Sherlock back against the wall.

Sherlock weakly whispered, "I'm sor-" before stopping himself.

"Yeah, you're sorry? No. You can't do that." John warned as his fist clenched again.

"I know." Sherlock dropped his head staring at the ground.

John pointed his finger at Sherlock's chest. "Okay. Here's what's going to happen. I'm really sure now that I can't have you at the flat. Not yet. Later, once I adjust. We will see each other, a few times a week perhaps. But, you can't apologize anymore. Not yet. Eventually, once I've coped more, maybe we can work this out. Maybe we can go back to what we were." John sighed, a gust of airing coming from his lungs.

"Okay." Sherlock's discontent was evident. "But, John? What if I just don't want to go back to what we were?"

John saw that glint in Sherlock's eye and tried to figure out what he meant. 'What do you mean?"

Sherlock clarified. "What I mean is that what if I want more than what we had, John. You know." Sherlock still had that fiber of hope.

"Actually, I don't." Confusion washed over John.

Sherlock sighed. "This." He leaned into John, pressing his lips to John.

John's eyes opened in shock, but he kissed him back before pulling away. He turned around abruptly. "Sherlock, don't. Not now. Not yet. Not _again._" John remembered the night a few months before the fall that it had happened.

_John pulled away from Sherlock, breaking the kiss. "Sherlock, we shouldn't do this." _

"_And why is that?" Sherlock was grinning madly. _

"_Sherlock, you're using tonight. It can't be like this. Not again. Lonely nights, under the influence of various drugs, making out and fucking each other into oblivion on the mattress. We need to stop doing this. It's happened twice. At some point, it needs to end." John pushed at Sherlock's bare chest. _

"_John…" Sherlock whimpered. "I need you. Now." He groaned deeply. _

_John followed Sherlock's gaze to the bulge in his boxers. John sighed. "Okay. This is the last time."_

"But, John. You said you loved me. Please. John…" Sherlock begged.

John closed his eyes at the plea. "Sherlock, we can't. That was just the drunken haze of the morning after. We were on a high. You know that." John stretched his neck before turning back around to face Sherlock.

"It doesn't matter, John." Sherlock insisted.

"Yes, it does. It didn't mean-" John started.

"Don't you give _me_ that crap. Don't deny it. I don't care if it's hard for you with your sexuality crisis or whatever…" Sherlock trailed off.

"It's not about that! It's never been about that, Sherlock!" John snapped back.

"Then what?" Sherlock snapped back just as fierce.

_John woke up and glanced over to see Sherlock still in bed. "I love you." John was shocked by his words immediately after he said them. _

"_Good morning, John." Sherlock turned over and kissed John and moved down his neck. "How'd you sleep?"_

"_Sherlock…we've talked about this…" John started._

"_I know, but what if that's not just what I want? I want something more, John. I want to be with you. Not just when I'm using and you're drunk. You just said that you loved me. Why can't we do this? I want this, John." Sherlock pleaded._

"_We can't. I can't." John began to push Sherlock off of him, but he persisted. _

"_Why? I don't care about your sexuality. It doesn't matter." Sherlock insisted._

"_It's not about that, Sherlock." John was taken aback by Sherlock's words. _

"_Really? Because I'm pretty sure it's always been about that. You can't come out of the closet…" Sherlock continued._

"_No. It's not. It's just that…I care too much to do this. If-when it goes south, I couldn't…I just can't…I wouldn't be able to handle the falling out, okay?" John sighed._

"_John…I wouldn't let that happen. It won't happen." Sherlock tried to explain._

"_There's always a falling out with romance, Sherlock. I'm not willing to risk it. This. What we have." John claimed._

"_There doesn't have to be."_

"_It's inevitable. I won't risk it. I'm sorry, Sherlock." John looked over at his partner._

"_Okay. But, then, this can't happen again. I can't handle this without something more." _

"_Okay." _

"You know what. The risk I couldn't take."

"John, I thought you would have gotten it after all this. Don't you think life's too short not to let yourself indulge in love? I really thought you of all people would have gotten that. After being in the war and seeing all those people with families die…" Sherlock spewed on.

"Sherlock. You said, you promised me, you'd _never_ mention the war!" John angrily yelled.

"I know." Sherlock dropped his head, ashamed he'd forgotten. "But, still. Don't you think now that it's worth the risk? I won't let us get like that…John?" Sherlock awaited a response.

John leapt forward and grabbed the lapel of Sherlock's suit, crushing his lips to Sherlock's. Sherlock reciprocated, hanging his arms around John's neck, pulling himself closer. John pulled away for a second time that night. He clenched his fists and dug his fingernails into his palms, slightly angry at himself, although he wasn't sure why. He wanted to take the risk. He always had. Sherlock had been right. He always was. Perhaps, that was why he was angry.

"John? Is this a yes? Because you can't keep doing this, taking me and pushing me away." Sherlock looked into John's eyes trying to find the answer.

"Let's go _home_, Sherlock." John intertwined his fingers with Sherlock's and pulled him down the alley.

As they walked away, Sherlock added, "I always knew you'd come around. You never were good at resisting me." He grinned.

"I know. Let's just go, okay?" John sighed. He seemed to be doing a lot of that when he was with Sherlock.


End file.
